


Take Proper Care of Your Brides

by stoppayingyourtaxes (lizandre)



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (BBC), Dracula - Netflix, Dracula 2020
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Feeding, Canon Divergent, It takes place on board the Demeter, Jonathan Harker is Dracula's Bride, M/M, Moffat why do you hate the gays, Overwhelmed Jonathan Harker, Steven Moffat is whack so i have to do his job for him, Undead Jonathan Harker, and a lot of other minorities but that's beyond the point, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizandre/pseuds/stoppayingyourtaxes
Summary: Jonathan is not getting all his daily nutrients by refusing to drink any and all blood.Dracula has to find a way to make him do it.
Relationships: Count Dracula/Jonathan Harker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 468





	Take Proper Care of Your Brides

“Come on, Johnny, drink up.”

Dracula’s bloody wrist was gravitating near Jonathan’s head. He gulped, his eyes were screwed shut but the smell of the count’s blood filled up his nostrils, finding its way to his brain, clouding his mind in a thick fog, just like the one he saw outside the tiny window of his cabin. The ship rocked on the waves of the calm sea, and Harker tried to focus on this sensation instead of the monstrous desires that tangled his thoughts together. He tried to synch his breathing with the swaying, but failed to ignore the growing heartbeat thumping into his ears. He didn’t know whose it was. Certainly not his; it stopped when his neck was snapped along with the remains of his hope. Was it Dracula’s?

A million of voices exploded in his mind. _No, no, no, no, no_. He curled into a ball, covering his ears. He felt like his eardrums were going to explode. The blood. The blood was screaming at him, howling, laughing, yelling, growling. Tears showed up in the corners of his eyes, and he felt himself let out an agonized, prolonged whine, he couldn’t take it anymore, every muscle in his body contracting simultaneously as he put so much pressure onto the sides of his head he hoped his brain would get squeezed out.

“Fine then,” Dracula’s voice acted as a dam. Jonathan relaxed a bit, still shaking. “Damn, how can I get you to eat? You need it, really, I’m not lying.”

Dracula bandaged his arm, looking over at the rat corpse laying on the table.

“You don’t like rodents, you don’t like vampires, what _do_ you like?”

He looked over his shoulder at his bride, who was whimpering on the bed. The Count frowned, tilting his head to try and look into the pained face. He let out a long sigh, turning his gaze onto the bloody fabric embracing his wrist.

“I can’t bring you live victims, Johnny, we’ll run out before we get to the shore of England.”

Jonathan buried his head in his knees, sobbing quietly. Dracula started to get tired of the one-sided conversations he was having every night for almost a week now. He scaled the room in two strides, standing three centimeters from the bed.

“Johnny.”

The blue-eyed man’s head snapped up thanks to a slick finger placed under his chin. The tear-filled eye sockets looked at the Count with fear being the secondary emotion now. He was sobbing with pure desperation, the acceptance of a horrifying nightmare which became a mundane fact of his existence.

The vampire shook his head, sighing again, letting his hand wonder over his bride’s jaw and neck, tenderly caressing the damaged skin.

“Don’t worry, Johnny, I’ll find way to feed you,” he smiled weakly, knowing that he probably only made Jonathan’s grief worse.

With a quiet click of the cabin door Harker was left alone with his own thoughts once again. He remembered almost killing his beloved Mina. The realization of becoming a monster. The sharp feel of a weaponized piece of wood against his chest. The cold blood on his tunic, the pain, the anticipation of the sweet release of death. The futility of trying. The soothing promise of eternal rest for a small price of four words. The lie.

And there he was. In cabin number nine, alone with the whispers of the sea. He laid down on the sheets. He closed his eyes. He tried to remember what it is like to fall asleep. Maybe, if he could just cling onto that feeling, he could slip out of his consciousness, and then, maybe, just maybe, he could dream of Mina again.

* * *

Heavy footsteps approaching the door woke Jonathan up from his pretend slumber. The door flew into the wall with a loud bang, almost flying off the hooks. The Count barged in, slyly smiling with his… mouth… overflowing with blood. 

If the door was a metaphor for Jonathan, he tore off a part of the wall along with his hooks. His limbs began shaking uncontrollably as he scrambled up to his feet, ravenously grabbing the vampire’s arms and digging his fingers into the fabric of his cloak. He almost devoured Dracula’s mouth, dragging his tongue along every drop of blood on his face. His tongue penetrated the Count’s lips, stumbling upon a pool of blood inside. Harker began to suck. Hard.

His thirst suddenly became known to him, as he tried his best to salvage it by absorbing the thick red liquid into his mouth, leaving a messy trail of saliva over the Count’s jaw, almost unhinging his own in a desperate attempt to consume the most of what he was getting.

He felt Dracula chuckle against his lips, serving as a wake-up call. He leaped away from the vampire in a horrifying realization of what just happened, and he wasn’t sure whether he was more scared of what he has done or how he did it.

“I told you I’ll make you drink some blood,” Dracula cocked his head back, wickedly smiling. “Johnny.”

Jonathan looked at the door of the cabin, only to see it locked. The Count must’ve closed it while Harker was too busy having his blood-thirsty freak out. 

“What are you scared of, Johnny?” the vampire slowly approached his terrified victim, reaching out his clawed fingers.

“Is it me?” the two were now unbearably close, even with Jonathan pressing himself against the wall in an attempt to become one with it.

“Johnny,” Dracula tilted his head, mockingly pouting, stroking the man’s cheek. “I would never lay a finger on you. Metaphorically.”

The Count stroked his thumb under Harker’s eye to collect any unnecessary moisture, but, surprisingly, none came.

“Not crying anymore, are you?” the vampire smiled, and if Jonathan didn’t know better, he would assume it was genuine. “Good. I don’t like my lovers to have so much unneeded emotional baggage.”

Harker placed his shaky hand onto Dracula’s.

“But don’t worry, Johnny. I always take care of my brides.”

**Author's Note:**

> episode 1 is the only one which has rights the other two are w h a c k


End file.
